


Every Risk You Take

by stew (julie)



Category: The Professionals (TV 1977)
Genre: HIV/AIDS, Happy Ending, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1991-07-13
Updated: 1991-07-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:01:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22526749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/stew
Summary: Doyle hasn’t told Bodie he’s bisexual. Doyle hasn’t told Bodie a lot of things. Then one morning the truth finally comes out – for the worst of reasons.
Relationships: William Bodie/Ray Doyle
Comments: 7
Kudos: 14





	Every Risk You Take

**Author's Note:**

> **Notes:** This was written and set way back in the early days of the AIDS crisis, a time when there was a great deal of ignorance, and there was no cure or even a reliable way of managing it long-term. It was basically a death sentence for the individual. It’s all still an utter tragedy, but I thank all The Powers That Be we are in a much better position these days. 
> 
> This was my first _Professionals_ fic, for better or worse. The title is borrowed from a song by the Police.
> 
> **First published:** in my zine Homosapien #1 on 13 July 1991.

# Every Risk You Take 

♦

Doyle had some weird look in his eyes this dark and early morning. The flat was warm, but he shivered, looking pale and gaunt. His manner was uneasy, and there was something heavy and grim within him. 

‘What’s up, mate? Coming down with something?’ 

The only reply was a visible flinch. 

‘What is it?’ Bodie insisted. ‘Spit it out – we’ve got surveillance from six, remember?’ 

‘OK, OK.’ Doyle, already in a thick jumper, grabbed a bomber jacket from a wardrobe and headed for the door. ‘Let’s go, then.’ 

‘Hold on – are you ill? You don’t need the jacket – it’s going to be eighty-five degrees today.’ 

‘I’m cold,’ was the terse reply thrown over Doyle’s shoulder. 

Bodie shrugged and followed his partner out the door, checking the deadlocks before pulling it shut. He jogged a couple of paces to catch up, but Doyle purposefully walked down the middle of the corridor, so that Bodie couldn’t walk beside him until they were out of the stairwell and into the parking lot. ‘Your car or mine?’ Bodie asked. 

‘Yours.’ And Doyle swung into the passenger seat. He was silent for the hour’s drive to the village where CI5 were staking out a particular house. 

Bodie, for his part, respected Doyle’s reticence. He’d shut his partner out so many times himself, as much with jokes as with silence, and he’d always expected the same respect – he could hardly push Doyle to now open up to him. 

It was only once they were settled in location, gratefully drinking the tea that Murphy had left them from his night’s thermos, that Doyle spoke again. ‘I have to tell you something, I have to warn you. It’s life and death, Bodie, or I wouldn’t. But no questions, you must promise me that.’ The green eyes burned fiercely in the pale face. 

‘OK, Ray. No questions.’ 

Doyle swallowed some more tea, shrank further into his jacket. ‘If I’m wounded, if I’m shot or cut, you’re going to have to be careful.’ 

Bodie frowned a little. ‘Aren’t I always?’ 

‘My blood. You mustn’t touch my blood, Bodie.’ 

‘What the hell are you going on about?’

‘There’s a chance,’ Doyle started saying – but his words jammed up in his throat and he had to turn his face away before he could continue. ‘There’s a chance I’ve got AIDS, Bodie.’ 

His partner stared at the head of tangled curls. ‘What?’ he whispered. 

‘You heard me. I had a phone call last night. An ex of mine tested positive.’ 

‘But you don’t know for sure.’ 

‘I’ll have the test to find out.’ 

‘Well, how certain are you?’ Bodie’s voice edged higher. 

‘Could go either way. So until I know, you’ll have to be careful, treat me like I’ve got it.’ Doyle finally turned back to face Bodie. ‘Promise me you’ll be careful.’ 

‘Fuck that! Are you going to die on me, you son of a bitch?’ 

Doyle stared at him. ‘Maybe.’ 

‘Christ almighty,’ Bodie muttered. 

‘You’ve lived with _that_ ever since you knew me. It could have been a bullet any day.’ 

‘But you don’t go stepping in front of bullets, do you? I trusted you to look out for yourself, sunshine, and now you go out and catch some goddamn fatal disease.’

‘So convict me. I plead guilty.’ 

‘How could you let it happen?’ 

‘Oh right! Have you curtailed your activities since AIDS appeared? You can get it from women, Bodie, as easy as from anyone else.’ 

‘No, I guess I… No. You’re right.’ Bodie stared blindly through the windscreen for a while, paying no attention to the village’s growing shopping day bustle. The house up the hill to their right remained undisturbed. ‘So, what will you do?’ he eventually asked quietly. 

‘Get the test done.’ 

‘Yeah, but if it’s positive?’ 

‘Quit, I suppose. I’ll have to.’ 

‘Why?’ 

‘I’d be a risk to you all, for a start. And I could get sick at any time. Don’t want to spend my last days working.’ 

‘Better than moping.’ 

‘Shut up, Bodie. I’ll do what I have to do.’ 

‘Yeah,’ he said wearily. ‘Yeah, nothing new there.’ 

The pair sat quietly for a while, each sunk in their own thoughts. Bodie remembered that time Doyle had been shot, and he’d been convinced Doyle would die of it, though Bodie had kept insisting otherwise: _He’ll be all right._ _He’ll be all right._ The grief returned now to sit heavy and sour in his gut. And this time, there was no clear end in sight. 

Doyle turned from his introspection to see Bodie’s face twisted in a strangely vulnerable grimace. ‘I’m sorry,’ Doyle muttered. ‘I guess I’m not the first to think it couldn’t happen to me.’ 

‘How _did_ it happen?’ Bodie suddenly asked. ‘Who was it?’ 

‘No questions, I said.’ 

‘For god’s sake, Ray, is it too much to ask?’ Bodie watched Doyle’s face fall into set lines. ‘It wasn’t a woman?’ he tentatively asked. He had his answer from the flash of green eyes meeting his. ‘It wasn’t a woman,’ Bodie said to himself, his mind racing uselessly in neutral. He wondered vaguely if this fact would have mattered more to him if Ray’s life didn’t look like being the penalty. ‘I never would have guessed.’ 

‘You weren’t meant to.’ 

‘But all the women, Ray…?’ 

‘It’s not that I don’t like them. But every now and then I need something else.’ Doyle shrugged. ‘I don’t expect you to –’ 

‘Shut up!’ Bodie snapped, turning to face him. ‘It doesn’t matter. Stick by my mates, don’t I?’ 

‘Got a lot of them, have you?’ Doyle asked sarcastically.

‘Sod off, Doyle.’ But his burst of anger wouldn’t hold against the sour grief, and Bodie eventually repeated, ‘I’ll stick with you.’ 

Doyle warily met his gaze for a long moment before turning away again. ‘Thanks,’ Doyle said. ‘Don’t know who you can count on with this sort of thing.’ He leant his head back, and made the effort to continue. ‘It’s an easy thing to catch, Bodie, but there’s still a good chance I’m clear. I just had to let you know, in case. Wouldn’t want to pass it on, not to you. Not to anyone.’ 

‘God,’ Bodie said faintly. ‘Imagine the gossip if we both ended up –’ He stopped short as he saw Doyle’s expression. ‘Sorry. I don’t even want to guess at what you’re facing.’ 

‘It’s all right,’ he said wearily. 

‘You’re not ill _now_?’ Bodie suddenly asked with some alarm. 

‘No. Just didn’t get much sleep last night.’ 

‘And there’s a good chance you’re clear anyway?’ 

‘Yeah,’ Doyle sighed. ‘This friend of mine, I’ve been seeing him on and off for months. But he thinks he knows who he caught it from and when, and I’ve only seen him twice since. And we didn’t do much that wasn’t safe. So…’ He trailed off when he saw Bodie’s pinched look. ‘You disapprove.’ 

‘It’s just – so hard to picture.’ 

That drew a quirky smile from Doyle. ‘And you always reckon _I’m_ the ignorant one.’ 

‘So how come they let you through after your security profile? It’s pretty risky behaviour for CI5. They must have found out.’

‘They let me through because I told them about it, I was completely honest with them. I guess they still thought I was worth employing. Blackmail doesn’t become a factor because I didn’t have to hide it.’ 

‘What about me?’ 

‘I would have told you if there was a reason to.’ 

‘But I wouldn’t have –’ 

‘No? Can you really say you would have felt comfortable with me? – Do you now?’ 

‘Told you it didn’t matter, Ray. Doesn’t make a difference.’ And then Bodie drew back a little, unused to such intimate conversations with his partner. He glanced around. ‘Going to be a long shift with nothing doing. Want some coffee?’ 

‘Yeah, that’d be great.’ 

On his own again, Doyle sagged in his seat. That had been both easier and harder than he’d imagined. He had agonised over the matter for hours – once he’d at least part-way assimilated the shock of it all, and considered all the implications for himself, he’d started to consider all the implications for those nearest him. And Bodie had headed that list for a long while. If it wasn’t for the slim chance of Bodie becoming accidentally infected himself, Doyle would have kept it very much to himself, at least until the test proved positive. **_If_** the test proves positive, he dutifully reminded himself. He would let himself hope for a negative result except he hated more than anything to be let down. 

Luckily, more due to lack of opportunity than anything else, he hadn’t had a lover other than Jim during the last couple of months. There’d be no guilt at having unknowingly passed the virus on. He realised he’d enjoyed Jim more than most, now he came to review the recent past; but there was no way they’d see each other again now. They had caused each other far too much pain and fear for that. Doyle was mildly surprised, once he’d thought about it, that Jim had even had the nerve to call him with the bad news. 

Bodie arrived back with coffee and a great deal of bluster. ‘Are you telling me the Cow knew all along?’ he demanded. 

‘The Cow knew all along,’ Doyle confirmed. 

‘I’ll be damned.’ 

‘Probably.’ 

‘And he still teamed you with me.’ 

‘Don’t worry. He warned me early on that you’re a reactionary bigot.’ 

‘A what?’ But Bodie’s mock anger couldn’t last long under Doyle’s mischievous smile. 

‘Hey – there’s the cleaner again.’ Doyle alerted Bodie to the house to which they were supposed to be paying full attention. 

‘A little late today. Just can’t get good help anymore.’ Bodie logged the activity and settled back again. ‘Then again, he’s regular. Been there every day.’ CI5 had originally hoped that the cleaner’s visits, which had started a week before, meant that the owner of the house – a notoriously slippery small-arms dealer – was expected home soon, but nothing had eventuated. Bodie held a warrant for the dealer’s arrest, but the woman had eluded him for months now. 

The pair sat watching the house for half an hour, seeing little of the cleaner, then logged the man’s departure. 

‘Beginning to think Cowley’s losing it,’ Bodie eventually said out of the blue. 

‘What? Why?’ 

‘Teaming you up with the sexiest guy in CI5? He must be getting senile. No wonder you can never concentrate when I’m around.’ 

Doyle laughed for the first time in too many hours. ‘You and your massive bloody ego! Why on earth would you assume I’d ever be attracted to you, mate?’ 

‘I’ve been known to attract _all_ sorts…’ Bodie asserted, half pride and half irony. 

‘Rest assured – you’re not my type.’ 

‘That’s a relief!’ 

‘Yeah, for both of us,’ Doyle agreed. But then his smile died again, and the pair sat in silence. 

♦

‘You want me to come in and hold your hand?’ 

Doyle stared at him. ‘You’re game. Exactly how many conclusions do you want these people jumping to?’ 

‘Look, I might have put that badly, but if you want company –’ Bodie carefully studied the shops opposite the specialist medical clinic they had parked outside. Blushing now would be the living end of his self-esteem. ‘I said I’d stick by you, didn’t I?’ he asked with an edge of irritation, hoping to bluster his way through. 

‘Yeah, but I never expected you’d… Anyway, you’re off the hook. I’d rather face this alone, thanks all the same.’ Doyle handed the man a five pound note. ‘There’s a pub on the comer. Go shout yourself a triple scotch to get over the shock.’ 

Bodie grabbed the note and threw Doyle a grin. ‘Come meet me down there when you’re finished, and we’ll get plastered. Can’t say we don’t deserve it.’ 

‘Can’t say we don’t.’ Doyle watched his partner meander down the street. Bodie, the most difficult person he’d ever had to get to know, had long ago become someone Doyle depended on absolutely. But to be the proverbial tower of strength on the day he learned his partner was not only bisexual but a possible AIDS carrier, was something Doyle had not expected. He sent an appreciative grin skyward before making his way through the double doors of the clinic. And if Bodie would accept him as he was, then it didn’t take too much more nerve to face up to the receptionist and tell her just what he was there for. 

♦

The tower of strength’s hands were shaking, even after the prescribed triple scotch. Delayed reaction, he figured. Of course his main fear was the chance that Ray might die a horrible and untimely death. It wasn’t the same as the chance of death on the job that they all lived with, it wasn’t as fair or honourable as that. 

But beyond that was the disconcerting idea of Ray Doyle making love with other men. The idea bothered Bodie, and the fact that it bothered him also bothered Bodie. He found it hard to visualise, which was strange because he’d been around plenty of queers and dykes and such before. Maybe it was because Bodie had always been able to tell before now, and he certainly hadn’t guessed this about his Ray. Or maybe…

To both men’s surprise their friendship had developed further and closer than either had ever known. And Bodie had often thrown an affectionate arm around Doyle, had always felt comfortable with a little comradely physical contact with his best mate. But that didn’t have to mean he wanted more than that, Bodie reminded himself, or even, as Ray had so succinctly put it, that Bodie was Ray’s type. It really didn’t deserve worrying about. 

What really mattered was whether Ray tested positive or not… 

Over a beer, Bodie’s mind kept running around the same circles, each minute ticking by slower than the last. 

When Doyle finally appeared beside him, Bodie took a moment to come out of his reverie. ‘Ray! What’s the news?’ 

‘I’ll tell you in two weeks.’

‘Lord, I’ve had enough trouble waiting forty-five minutes.’ 

‘You want the bad news? The antibodies can take up to twelve weeks to show up. Which means another test in eight weeks’ time if this one’s negative, because it’s four weeks since I last saw him. And another two weeks to wait for _those_ results…’ 

‘I think I need another triple scotch.’ 

‘Yeah – get me one, too.’

When Bodie came back from the bar, he found that Doyle had appropriated the comer booth and was sitting with his feet up on the opposite seat. Bodie sat next to him, also stretching out, deliberately leaving no more than a hair’s breadth between them. It wouldn’t do to treat his partner like a leper right now, it wouldn’t do at all. He refused to believe all the horror stories – he wasn’t going to catch this thing by having a drink with the man. ‘Tell you what, sunshine, I’ll give you something to really feel glum about.’ 

‘Just what I need,’ Doyle agreed. 

‘I know how to get a couple of tickets to the footy – I mean the rugby league game tomorrow.’ 

‘The third test match? How? They sold out weeks ago.’ 

‘Never you mind how. Seeing us get flogged by those damn Colonials is really going to bring you down…’ 

‘I’m an optimist – it’s about time we managed to beat the Australians. After all, we did win the first test by a point.’ 

Bodie grinned for a moment before launching into a drunken debate on the game. It wasn’t as if he even knew anything about rugby league, being a die-hard football fan – by which he meant soccer of course – not to mention a Liverpool supporter. His ignorance tended to make Doyle a little hot under the collar when Bodie expressed his diverse opinions. But he had to do something to keep Doyle’s mind off things, Bodie reckoned. 

♦

In his more lucid or honest moments, Bodie could admit to himself how much more aware of Doyle he was these days. There had been that sixth sense that the best partners develop, that odd way of knowing without sight, touch or hearing exactly where the other was, and whether they were in or out of trouble. There had been companionship, friendship, both bad and good times shared. But now there was something more, as if his sixth sense had grown more acute whenever Ray was near. 

If they were together, and especially when alone together, Bodie was physically aware of exactly how his partner was sitting, how he was moving, the precise expression on his face. The only thing Bodie could compare it to was when he wanted a particular woman, however fleetingly; he always became achingly aware of how her hips moved when she walked or how her breasts filled the material of her blouse. With Doyle, it seemed to be his long legs, his slim suppleness, his mutable eyes that Bodie noticed most. It would have been embarrassing except that Ray didn’t seem to realise, and bore his puzzled, frowning face with good grace. Bodie could only assume he’d become aware of Doyle in this way because his partner had become someone who might want to have sex with him some day. There was no chance of it ever happening, in reality, but even the possibility put a different perspective on so many things. 

At his clearest before he slept, the last few minutes he lay awake in darkness each night, Bodie would reflect on all this, and count the days until they’d know for sure whether Ray had a death sentence or not. 

During the day it was business as usual, and all Bodie’s worries and confused senses would be pushed as far to the back of his mind as possible. 

Business as usual as it could be. Cowley, having been told (and duly glared at by Bodie), put them on the less dangerous assignments, or sent them out strictly alone. Or they spent days on paperwork, with Bodie stolidly refusing to complain. He shrugged off the inevitable jibes and gripes (‘Why me? Ain’t it your turn to go get yourself killed, three-seven?’) and even deflected a few mutterings from Doyle. The verbal sparring did his confidence good. In fact, if his emotions weren’t in mild turmoil, the period might have been as good as a holiday.

♦

‘I don’t want to know,’ Doyle said, sprawled on his back along his sofa. ‘Ignorance is bliss, or something.’ 

‘Ignorance is bloody agony,’ Bodie retorted. ‘What time’s the appointment tomorrow?’ 

‘Nine-thirty, I’ve told you a million times.’ Doyle sighed, throwing one arm up to cover his face. ‘I don’t want to know,’ he repeated wearily. 

It was slightly easier to picture now, Bodie reflected, gazing bemused at Doyle. Instead of a sofa, he imagined a bed under the long, lazy body before him. Ray waiting, languid and full of promises, and there was another man there, too, only Bodie couldn’t quite focus on him… He sighed, echoing Doyle. ‘If this went on a day longer, I’d start climbing walls.’ 

Ray turned his head to gaze at him from under his forearm. ‘But what if the test results are positive, Bodie?’ he asked hoarsely. 

‘Then we go on from there. I’ve read all that stuff they gave you – just because you test positive doesn’t mean you’re dying.’ 

‘No – it means I’ll be dead within five years.’ 

‘Come on, Ray, they’re guessing. It’s early days yet – they say there’s a chance some people will live. Anyhow, the first test was negative.’ 

‘You _know_ that doesn’t mean anything, Bodie. Quit the bullshit, OK?’ 

‘Yeah, OK,’ Bodie muttered. He remembered the day years before when he’d threatened to quit if Cowley dared team him up with anyone. ‘Got too used to having a partner. Need someone to watch my back.’ _And no one else will do_.

Doyle eyed him wearily. ‘First the bullshit, now the emotional baggage. What’s with you tonight?’ 

‘What do you think?’ Bodie snapped. ‘You think this is easy for me?’ 

‘You aren’t the one dying.’ 

‘You don’t even know that you _are_ yet.’ 

‘Crap!’ 

‘Look, maybe you can start with the self-pity tomorrow, but give it a rest tonight, will you?’ 

‘What do you care?’ Doyle muttered, hiding behind his arm again. ‘What the hell do you care?’ 

‘ _Damn_ you!’ Bodie leapt to his feet, hands clenched into fists. ‘Damn you!’ Wanting to commit violence on something, he settled for pacing to the front door. ‘What the fuck do you mean, what do I care?’ He bounced on the balls of his feet as if he were about to go a bout in the ring – then suddenly turned to pound the door with one fist. 

‘Sorry,’ Doyle said, walking over to him, standing right behind him. ‘Guess I’d better be on my own tonight.’ 

‘No, I _said_ I’d stick by you,’ Bodie said. His throat was constricted with the aftermath of anger, his vision still red around the edges. He kept his back turned to Doyle, as aware as ever of the man so close to him, the whipcord body that liked loving other men. 

‘You’ve been a mate, Bodie, but –’

‘But?’ Bodie twisted around to face him. ‘What did I do wrong, Ray?’ he blurted out furiously. ‘Give me the benefit of your wealth of experience and tell me what the fuck I did wrong.’ 

‘ _But_ I can await sentencing on my own, _thank you_.’ Doyle’s eyes were glittering mad. ‘I don’t need this tonight, Bodie.’ 

‘You know what sort of mate you had in me, Ray? If this was a bullet targeting you, I’d step in the way. If I could give you my blood and take yours, I would.’ Bodie paused, chest heaving to draw breath. ‘You want to throw me out tonight, Ray? Fine.’ But though he willed himself to turn, to set his hands on the doorknob, the locks, he couldn’t. He stood, aware of his heart pounding, his blood racing, his body aroused to the point of bursting. And aware of Ray, only inches from him, all fey beauty, muscled sexuality, wildness to match his own. 

‘You think I don’t feel the same way about you?’ 

Doyle’s words rang in Bodie’s ears, confusing him. Was it so obvious how he felt? Was it at all possible that Doyle shared those emotions? Doyle was turning away. Bodie reached out to grab a shoulder in each hand and pulled the man to him, forcing his mouth over Ray’s. Kissing him, except that it felt more like eating him alive. He turned them around, slamming Doyle back against the wall, pressing into him. Doyle moaned through the kiss, hands clutching at Bodie’s hips, struggling to answer Bodie’s tight hold on him. 

It was too much of a shock to Ray to fully comprehend. For weeks he’d fatalistically thought he’d never have another lover, and now here was Bodie with his urgent, demanding lips and hands… Doyle groaned again, caught against the wall, breath forced from him by Bodie’s hard body pushing into his. The attack was so unexpected, and so surprisingly welcome, that Doyle felt an orgasm welling up within him immediately. Without even a stray thought to help him control his reactions he murmured, ‘Lover…’ as Bodie’s mouth left his to trail down his neck. 

There was the long, still moment when completion was sweetly certain, but not yet upon him. And Doyle was alone. He dimly heard Bodie fumbling with the locks, the door slamming closed, but Doyle couldn’t even open his eyes or call Bodie’s name because…

…he slid down the wall, a sun imploding within him. He curled up in an effort to stop the mad shaking that overtook him, and stayed there on the bare floorboards for a long while. 

♦

It was damned easy to visualise now, Bodie raged to himself: Ray with another man. _Ray with me!_

He left his car behind and strode down the road, heading for town. Woe betide anyone who tried to mug him, he thought grimly, they’d never know what flattened them. 

Christ, he could see it all now, Ray’s long legs tangling with his, green eyes bright with passion, willing body answering his every need, bettering his every dream. Bodie stalked unheeding through the restless night. 

He could see it now, but he rejected it, rejected it utterly. 

♦

By the time he tried to stand, Doyle was cramped into a foetal curl. He forced his muscles to stretch into place again, dazedly got to his feet, and headed towards the bathroom. Sex with your clothes on may well be the safest Safe Sex ever, but it also seemed to be the messiest. His face twisted in a wolf’s grin while he stripped off and washed. _If you don’t have a condom to hand, just leave your jeans on!_

But laughing about the physical results of their encounter was simply an effort to not think of Bodie himself. Pulling on a bathrobe, Doyle wandered back out to the living room again, eyeing the impersonal place on the wall that Bodie had wrestled him against, no holds barred. 

It had never before occurred to Doyle to fall for Bodie, though it seemed the only logical thing to do now. The assault on his body had been an assault on his emotions, too – when he had called Bodie ‘lover’, he had been offering and asking for so much. And Bodie had literally run a mile.

He’d noted Bodie as attractive, even as beautiful, when they’d first met, and then paid him no further attention as far as that was concerned. The same would have been expected of them if either had been teamed with a woman – the work was of paramount importance, and while a friendship aided the work, an affair rarely did. 

And here was Doyle, falling belatedly in love with his partner who, for all Doyle knew, might never want to see him again. Life is nothing if not interesting, Doyle concluded – in the Chinese sense of _interesting_ being a curse.

♦

Doyle was heading for his car at nine the following morning when he noticed that Bodie’s car was still parked near it. And there was Bodie huddled in the front seat, looking rather the worse for wear. Doyle walked over and tapped on the glass. 

‘Hop in, then,’ was the terse order. 

Doyle complied wordlessly, glancing over once to see the pinched, cold look back on Bodie’s face. And once was enough – neither looked at the other again until they’d reached the clinic. ‘Wait for me?’ Doyle asked. 

A nod was all Bodie gave in reply. He watched Doyle disappear into the building, Bodie’s heart telling him he would never see the man again. But that was foolishness – the next time he saw Doyle, he’d know… And wouldn’t it be the most glorious let-down when the results were negative? But, no, Bodie had fallen into Doyle’s pessimism. They’d accepted the worst as truth, otherwise a positive test would have been too cruel to face. And the worst seemed more likely with every moment Doyle stayed inside. 

After twenty minutes Bodie realised he _had_ held a secret flame of hope, only because it was now finally extinguished. Amazed, he lifted fingers to touch his damp cheeks. Ten long weeks, the worst of his life, and he’d never been close to crying. Yet now tears flowed freely and silently and quite out of his control. 

The doors swung open, and Ray stood there. Ray was smiling, grinning in the sunlight, a vision of victory. Bodie felt a choked sob escape him. That gave him the incentive he needed to at last halt the flow of tears – no way was he going to end up wailing. 

Doyle jogged to the car and let himself in to sit beside his partner. ‘It’s all right, Bodie, I am the luckiest son of a gun in the world.’ If Bodie had observed him, he would have seen that behind the smile, Doyle was a mess of trembling pieces. ‘Cheer up, I’ll probably get shot tomorrow,’ Doyle declared. Then, low and serious, ‘Are you all right to drive? I’ve got to get out of here.’ 

‘Yeah, of course.’ Bodie wiped the last of the tears away, and in a moment was ready to go. ‘My place, OK? I’ve got a bottle of champagne on ice.’ Bodie shot him a rueful grimace. ‘It would have been scotch if the news was bad.’ 

‘Well, seeing as it’s good, how about champagne _and_ scotch?’ 

‘At this time of the morning? You _are_ mad.’ 

‘You’ve got to take it where you can get it when you’re a CI5 operative.’

But that shut Bodie up. He’d been doing some reminiscing of his own, and figured the last time he’d heard those words from his partner had been the last time Doyle had risked catching AIDS. Doyle had bounced into their office that morning, that particular grin on his face that they always shared when one of them had got lucky. Remembering the unusually satisfied expression Doyle had worn all that day, made Bodie now feel a little nauseated. 

‘I can hardly believe this is true.’ Doyle settled back in his seat, content to simply feel he was no longer one of the walking undead. ‘Unbelievably lucky,’ he murmured once. 

Bodie remained silent even after they were firmly ensconced in his flat, alcohol in hand. 

‘Aren’t you going to say anything? We should be celebrating, not moping around here.’ 

‘Sorry. I guess congratulations are in order.’ 

‘Yeah.’ Doyle toasted his partner. 

‘I’m sorry about last night,’ Bodie finally said. 

‘Oh? Which bit are you sorry for?’ 

‘Just about all of it.’ 

‘Running out on me was the worst of it.’ Doyle watched curiously as Bodie blushed. ‘Never seen you so uncomfortable before, mate. What’s the problem?’ 

‘You know what happened as well as I do.’ 

‘So tell me how you feel about it.’ 

‘Sorry: that’s how I feel,’ Bodie said shortly. 

‘Look, we’re meant to be celebrating, and we can’t do that unless you cheer up.’ 

Bodie sent an irate look in Doyle’s direction. 

‘So things are a little complicated right now. I take it you’re happier about the test results than you’re letting on. So we can go on from here as mates, right? If you can accept what I am, then we can just forget what happened last night.’ Doyle shrugged at Bodie’s continued silence. ‘I don’t know why it happened – I put it down to your concern for me, and me telling you where to go. We were both acting pretty crazy.’ 

‘All right.’ 

‘You don’t _look_ like it’s all right. Here – top up your champagne, and I’ll tum the cricket on, eh? The second test will have just started.’ Doyle dragged the television over and sat next to Bodie. ‘Now who do you reckon will win _this_ one, mate?’ 

‘Have to be the Aussies again.’ 

‘Colonials beat the Empire at the Empire’s own game? I don’t mind about the rugby league – but cricket? Forget it.’ And Doyle settled in for the day with a smile. 

The Australians were all out for 196 and the champagne bottle was empty when Doyle asked, ‘How do you really feel about last night?’ 

‘Well,’ Bodie drawled, ‘I guess I can picture it now. You and other guys.’ 

‘So does it bother you?’

‘Yes, it bothers me,’ Bodie said impatiently. 

Doyle sighed. ‘What about it, exactly?’ 

‘Lord, you _have_ to push it, don’t you?’ Bodie poured himself some scotch, and tossed it down. ‘It bothers me that I wanted to… to kiss you, of course.’ 

‘But you don’t want to anymore, do you? Isn’t that the point? It’s over now.’ 

‘But I can’t say that I don’t want to anymore, Ray.’ 

‘Oh Christ.’ Doyle stared fixedly at the television set, the green and white of the cricket match blurring. 

‘Well, is it so odd?’ Bodie burst out. ‘I don’t know – I’m the ignorant one, remember?’ 

‘Odd? That depends. Do you really think we can both go on and forget all this ever happened?’ 

‘I suppose that’s what we have to do. Just do us a favour and fight me off if I try it on again, right? You’ve dealt with madmen before.’ 

Doyle turned to look at his partner carefully. ‘I couldn’t promise to fight you off.’ 

‘Don’t tell me,’ Bodie said slowly, ‘that you’ve actually fallen for the famous Bodie charm? I thought I wasn’t your type.’ 

‘I changed my mind. You were being very persuasive at the time.’ 

Bodie met Doyle’s gaze, a small smile growing on his face. ‘All right, then, sunshine.’ He turned back to watch the cricket for a while. The English were none for 103 when he slid an arm around Doyle’s shoulders. 

‘So what changed _your_ mind?’ Doyle asked, settling comfortably into the friendly embrace. ‘ _Reactionary bigot_ might have been an exaggeration, mate, but it has a kernel of truth to it.’ 

‘I know.’ Bodie’s arm clutched Doyle tight for a moment. ‘I guess what really made me realise, was sitting outside in the cold all night, imagining how much warmer it would have been inside with you.’ 

‘Warm? The way you kissed me, it would have been bloody Jamaica on a summer’s day.’ Doyle laughed. ‘Trust you to have a practical reason for it. Couldn’t just hope you’d fall for the tried-but-true Doyle charm, could I?’ 

‘I’ll have you know that your charms have been bothering me for over two months now. I didn’t know it myself until last night, but I’m the ignorant one around here.’ 

‘And sheer lust is enough to break down all those prejudices?’ 

‘This is different. This is you and me choosing; no pressure, nobody’s forcing anyone or playing games, and it’s not like there’s no other choice for either of us. Nothing but you and me wanting each other, see? And if it was only lust, Ray, I wouldn’t risk a bollocking from Cowley for it.’ 

Doyle grinned. ‘What if I told you I love you? Would you run a mile again?’ 

‘Try me and see.’ Bodie looked at Doyle for a moment and returned his smile, then he dragged him close into his side again. For a moment, he pressed his face into the auburn curls. ‘Aussies are in a commanding position, wouldn’t you say?’ Bodie commented. 

‘You’ve got to be nuts.’ 

‘Maybe, sunshine.’ Bodie sighed, but his grin wouldn’t go away. ‘Maybe.’

♦


End file.
